“Zephros?” Groaned the wizard into the muck.I wrote this at random the other night and would love to expand it, but I have this errant thought buried in my head that I'm unintentionally ripping off Fritz Leiber's Fafhrd and The Gray Mouser series. I think it's because the story has two male characters and has a sword and sorcery setting. I've never read the series, so I can't possibly be ripping it off, but the thought remains.
“Would you mind getting off me or shifting your pommel out of my back?”
“Sure, sorry. One thing though, Mikel?” Said the mercenary as he rolled off his companion and sat up.
“You could have warned me there was a company of soldiers in the tavern. Drunk soldiers.”
Mikel lifted himself into a sitting position and examined the mud stains on his tunic and leather armor. “Well,” he began. “would you have gone in there if I had?”
“Not really, no.”
“Well then, there you go.”
Zephros thought for a moment and sighed. He stood, straightened his scale mail and stalked back to the tavern doors. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Welp, time to get to writing.